Bad Idea, Punk
by WalterKovacsisDead
Summary: Flashing your blatant homophobia to an openly gay vigilante is not precisely the wisest thing to do when you want to keep all your bones intact. Dan/Ror


**Fandom:** Watchmen

**Title: **Bad Idea, Punk

**Characters/Pairings:** Dan/Rorschach

**Summary: **Flashing your blatant homophobia to an openly gay vigilante is not precisely the wisest thing to do when you want to keep all your bones intact.

**Ratings/Warnings: **PG13 for language and violence.

**Notes: **Fill for a kink!meme prompt. Anon wanted a violent beat-down on a gay-basher.

"Hey, faggot," The punk crows, pushing against the back of Dan's head a little harder. Dan's not quite sure how he's ended up face down in an alleyway with some katied-up kid straddling his back, rubbing his face into the filthy asphalt. But here he is. "Anything come _up_ yet, faggot?"

Dan has come to hate that word, along with a myriad other slurs. It was thrown around every now and again before, when he was just a guy in an owl costume running around. He had expected it, really – he_ was_ wearing what amounted to tights. But ever since he and Rorschach had partnered up, it was pretty much certain he'd hear it a thousand times every night.

"Fuckin' queer. This get you on, man? Maybe I oughta break a few fingers, that's the shit he's into innit?"

It certainly didn't help that what all these druggies and muggers and scum-of-the-street punks were implying was true. Well, half true. He was sleeping with Rorschach, at least. All the kinky stuff… _most _of the kinky stuff was ignorant garbage.

"Come out here, sayin you clean up the city's filth, but you guys are the fuckin' filth. City doesn't need any more faggots running around."

He thrashes, but the kid has his arms pinned painfully against his back, and they're not coming loose. He's waiting for a knife or –god help him – a gun to enter the picture, resigning himself to taking some serious injury before Rorschach is going to manage to save him. This is why he hates gangs; he hates being out numbered and separated. He thinks he's done damn well to be down to just this last punk, but he wonders where Rorschach is…

Except it doesn't last long enough to be a full query, because he can hear him, growling as he throws himself at the punk. A blossom of pain as his cheekbone is ground agonizingly hard into the concrete, and then the body is dragged off him. The relief of pressure is beautiful, the air cool and refreshing as he lifts his head from the ground. He can hear the kid laughing, something about 'fag to the rescue' before the rather unpleasant sound of face-meeting-brick. When Dan manages to get to his feet, Rorschach has the gangster against the wall, an elbow between his shoulder blades and his knee in the small of the kid's back. He's twisting his arm in to an improbable degree, the kid's fingers in his free hand.

"Should watch your mouth if you can't watch your back," He growls, and Dan winces a little at the dry snap the punk's finger makes when Rorschach twists his hand. "Should be more accepting of deviation if going to sample deviant lifestyle of any kind." Another finger breaks, and the kid howls wordless agony into the wall. Leaning close – bending the kid's arm all the more – Rorschach snarls something into the kid's ear. They've been through this before, but Dan's still not exactly sure what his partner is saying. He's pretty sure it's a request for an expanded vocabulary.

Whatever it is he says elicits a curse and a useless flail. A third finger snaps, and Dan thinks he should probably stop this. "Whole other hand once I break these last two," Rorschach reminds, the creak of his gloves ominous as his fingers tighten. "Then can start on other bones."

"Shit okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, fuck!" The kid writhes, but its less and attempt to get away than an attempt to just ease a little of the pressure. "I swear to god, I'll never say it again!"

Rorschach turns on his heel, fluid in his fury, and throws the punk to Daniel's feet. Dan's ready, grabbing him by the collar and hoisting him over to a convenient pole, shoving him down and cuffing him there. He's not surprised that the kid is sobbing softly; too busy trying to cradle his broken hand to struggle. Dan doesn't bother being gentle.

As they turn to walk away, the kid chokes softly, then spits at them. "How d'ya feel about 'cock-sucker', ya f-fuckin' hard ass fag-"

The slur is cut off by Rorschach's fist, connecting solidly with the punk's face. There's an impressive little burst of blood, eyes rolling back into his head, and the kid slumps forward, down for the count.

"Told him to watch his mouth," Rorschach grumbles when he sees Dan staring at him.

Touching the side of his face – it's raw from where it's been ground into the concrete – Dan utters a weak laugh, shaking his head. "It's cute when you defend my honor."

He's not surprised when his partner gives a disapproving grunt, punching him sharply in the arm. Rubbing at that new ache as well, all Dan can do is smile.


End file.
